Live and Die on This Day
by Dhani Harper
Summary: When the camp loses one of their own, Father Mulcahy finds himself unable to console a grieving and angry Hawkeye Pierce through conventional methods, and must find another way to get through to the distressed doctor.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Live and Die on This Day

Characters: Father John "Dago Red" Mulcahy/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce

Rating: MA; Hurt/Comfort

Summary: When the camp loses one of their own, Father Mulcahy finds himself unable to console a grieving and angry Hawkeye Pierce through conventional methods, and must find another way to get through to the distressed doctor.

Author's Note: Based on the characters portrayed by Donald Sutherland and Rene Auberjonois from _MASH_ (1970), the original film production. The title comes from the poem quoted by Liam Neeson in _The Grey _(2012). Great movie, by the way.

And, as always, please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them right away. Thanks for reading. -RW

* * *

><p>Thunder rolled across the heavy grey clouds covering all of South Korea. Off in the distance, a flash of lightning sliced through the air. It had been raining non-stop for three days at the 4077th, turning the earth to thick, sticky mud and creating ankle-deep puddles out of potholes. It was wet and humid and miserable, and the only thing worse than the weather were the causalities that seemed to be coming in at regular intervals.<p>

As fighting in the area grew heavier day-by-day, fear that the Chinese would take Old Baldy weighed down on everyone. The front line of the war had always been roughly three miles from the 4077th MASH—give or take a mile or two depending on which side had the advantage. Whenever the line shifted closer to the unit, it was time to bug out. If the Chinese took Old Baldy, it would mean a permanent bug out for the 4077th until the United Nations could claim it back, but by that time the personnel could all be reassigned.

Tension was mounting, and every solider from their side that came through the camp brought a little grimace to the faces of the Double Natural.

The camp's chaplain, Father John "Dago Red" Mulcahy had been one of the few who hadn't really cared about 'sides' of the war when it came to casualties. A body was a body, and all were children of God. To him, pain and suffering looked the same on the faces of allies and enemies alike, and it was his job to provide comfort in whatever form it took.

As a fresh round of casualties made their way into the camp, Dago hurried out from his tent to assist wherever he was needed. He'd learned enough triage and wound care over the last year to know the serious wounds from the superficial ones. One of the nurses he'd befriended had once told him that if he saw a lot of blood-soaked packing on a wound, then Dago's first priority should be to apply pressure, then pray. He'd laughed at the advice at first, but had quickly learned she hadn't been kidding.

Dago came across a young Korean boy who was lying on stretcher. The skin on one side of his face was charred, blistered and bleeding, but the most serious wound seemed to be the boy's belly. Dago knelt down in the mud beside the boy and placed his palm flat against the thick pads of gauze covering his abdomen. The boy groaned in pain, and Dago heard a slight squish as blood pressed out under his hand.

"It's alright," Dago told him gently, not knowing if the boy spoke any English. "You're at the 4077th MASH."

"D-Dago…Red…" the boy managed weakly, his slightly open eyes fixed on the priest.

A chill ran through Dago as he looked down at the boy who had spoken his nickname. No one beyond those at the 4077th knew him as Dago Red. The priest felt the urge to vomit as he truly saw the boy for the first time. "Ho-Jon…oh, God… Ho-Jon…"

The priest looked up, squinting against the rain that hit him in the face, and spotted one of the doctors. "Hawkeye!"

Hawkeye Pierce had been busy assessing a seriously wounded kid when he heard the distress in Dago's voice as he called out to him. To hear the normally unflappable priest suddenly so flapped filled Hawkeye with anxiety and he looked to the nurse beside him. "Get him prepped and on a table—I don't care whose."

The surgeon spun around and quickly spotted the priest through the driving rain, crossing over to him. He could see Dago's hand stained with red as the priest firmly applied pressure to Korean boy's abdomen. Dago's face, however, was what drew the doctor's attention. The look of absolute horror shook Hawkeye. The doctor knelt down across from Mulcahy, but before he could say anything, Dago spoke.

"It's Ho-Jon…"

The words slammed into Hawkeye and he nearly fell backwards in his own shock as he looked down at the unrecognizable face of Ho-Jon Kim, a young Korean boy who had worked in the camp as a house boy before he'd been drafted into the South Korean army. Hawkeye had been particularly taken with Ho-Jon, and had written to his Alma Mater in the states to try and get Ho-Jon accepted to the college. Ho-Jon was one of the few South Koreans who had possessed a proper education. The dean of the college had written back saying that the college would accept him if Hawkeye found a way to send the boy overseas. It had been Dago Red who had thought up the idea of making a camp-wide pool to get the funds, but before they'd gotten enough money, Ho-Jon had been drafted and all of Hawkeye's hopes for the young boy had been ripped away.

A lump formed in Hawkeye's throat as he pushed the priest's hand away and carefully lifted the edge of the gauze. "I thought I told you not to get wounded."

"You fix me up, Hawkeye?"

"You're damn right I will," Hawkeye choked, looking up at the priest who was watching him anxiously. Hawkeye motioned for Dago to come with him, not wanting to talk over Ho-Jon. They took a few steps away from their wounded friend and Hawkeye grasped Mulcahy's elbow for stability as he leaned in. "Stay with him for now. I'm going to get the corpsmen over here to get him inside right away."

"Is he going to make it, Hawkeye?" The priest couldn't help but ask.

"I don't know… Put in a good word with your boss for me."

"Consider it done."

Dago watched Hawkeye turn and run towards the OR, mud and water splashing up under his boots. The chaplain sank back down next to Ho-Jon, putting pressure against his abdomen again as he closed his eyes to pray.

Moments later two young men ran over and took hold of either end of the stretcher. One of the boys murmured an apology as they whisked Ho-Jon away mid-prayer, but that didn't stop Dago from finishing the words. He took a brief moment to collect himself before he looked around at the other wounded still lying in the rain. He hated that the pre-op ward wasn't big enough to accommodate everyone at once, but he was at least thankful that—while wet—it wasn't cold.

Once all the wounds had been assessed outside and the minor ones tended to, Dago headed inside, peeling off his drenched rain slicker and hanging it up in the changing room as he grabbed a face mask and headed into the OR.

"Sponge," he heard Hawkeye say tightly. Even halfway across the room, Dago could see the sweat on Hawkeye's brow.

"Sponge, doctor." A nurse answered.

The rest of the OR was almost deadly quiet, the other doctors working on their own patients but attention honed into what Hawkeye was doing. The air was charged with anticipation as everyone held their breaths. Dago carefully stepped towards the table, his own heart racing in his chest.

"Hurry up, Hawkeye," Ugly John, the gas passer, warned from the head of the table. Dago had learned that those words were a cryptic way of saying they were losing the patient.

"I'm going as fast as I can." Hawkeye snapped.

Dago saw the slightest tremble in Hawkeye's hand as he worked to repair the damage. It was that tell-tale sign that told the priest the doctor wasn't going to be able to save him. He discerned that Hawkeye knew it too, but was determined to do the impossible. Dago prayed for a miracle.

"Come on, baby…" Hawkeye pleaded quietly with Ho-Jon. "Just a few more minutes. Stay with me just a few more minutes."

Dago's eyes flicked to Ugly John's face, watching the man's jaw clench and unclench anxiously. The anesthesiologist was shaking his head gently. "He doesn't have that much time, Hawke—"

"_GIVE ME_ the time." Hawkeye growled. "Do your goddamn job and keep his ass alive until I can fix him up!"

"What do you think I'm doing over here? Playing canasta!" Ugly John roared back, making Dago jump slightly at the anger in his voice.

"KNOCK IT OFF!" Henry Blake, Lieutenant Colonel and commander of the 4077th, brought silence once again to the tense room.

Dago watched Hawkeye's shoulders rising and falling rapidly as the doctor panted, then he noticed Hawkeye's hands had stopped working. In almost the same instant, Ugly John pulled the stethoscope from his ears.

"He's gone…we lost him."

Tension broke into sadness at the news, but those still working knew they couldn't stop to grieve. Hawkeye's face, half hidden behind the white mask, and eyes obscured by amber-tinted lenses, was unreadable, but Dago cold feel waves of anger radiating off of the man.

"No…" he growled, throwing down the instruments and locking his hands together over Ho-Jon's sternum as he started doing chest compressions. "Don't you die on me, Ho-Jon. Don't you die on me!"

"Hawkeye…" Ugly John was shaking his head again. "He's dead, Hawk. You're not going to bring him back."

Hawkeye refused to listen, and instead told one of the nurses to bag him. Dago could see the hope in the woman's eyes as she complied, knowing that if anyone could save Ho-Jon at this point it would be Hawkeye Pierce. The tension mounted once again in the room as Hawkeye continued to perform CPR on the boy, but after three minutes, it was Trapper John McIntyre who ended it.

"Close for me," he murmured to the nurse, then turned around and gently grabbed Hawkeye's shoulders, pulling the surgeon back from the dead Korean boy.

"No!" Hawkeye fought to get away from Trapper, but the other man held tight.

"He's gone, Hawk." Trapper said simply, albeit sadly.

Peirce stood rigidly in Trapper's grasp, his eyes fixed on Ho-Jon as he tried to accept that he had lost this fight with death. A strangled sob escaped the surgeon and he ripped free from Trapper, kicking the instrument tray as hard as he could, sending instruments flying as the tray and everything on it clattered loudly to the ground. Hawkeye stormed out of the OR, punching one of the plywood walls with all of his might for good measure along the way and leaving a fist-sized dent in the wood. The others stared after him for a long minute before resuming their work.

"Henry?" Trapper said, obviously asking for permission to go after his friend.

"How many waiting?" Colonel Blake asked to no one in particular.

"Six critical, four that can wait." Someone answered.

"I can't be down two surgeons," Blake told Trapper regretfully. Pausing in thought, Henry queried, "Padre?"

Dago looked at Henry but knew what he was going to say. "I'll see to Hawkeye."

"Thanks, Red." Trapper said softly, looking at Ho-Jon's lifeless body before taking a deep breath and calling for the corpsmen.

"Wait!" Dago called out, making the others look at him. "I need to pray for him first."

Again the room fell silent as the priest prayed for the boy. Dago had known that Ho-Jon was a Buddhist rather than Catholic, and so he asked God to help the boy along his journey into the afterlife, rather than specifically asking for God to take him into Heaven. The silence remained as Dago nodded to the waiting corpsmen, then turned to leave in search of Hawkeye.

The camp grounds were deserted in the mid-day downpour, with all personnel either in the OR or taking shelter inside from the rain. Dago had a strong feeling that he wouldn't find Hawkeye inside anywhere, and let his feet guide him to the most likely place the doctor would be. In his quest to seek out the surgeon, Dago had forgotten to get his rain slicker, and was already soaking wet by the time he reached the river that ran along the outskirts of the compound. Usually little wider than a small creek, the river was swollen now from all of the rain.

As expected, sitting on the shoreline, was Hawkeye—knees drawn up and arms hugging his head. His white scrubs were splattered with mud and blood, and soaked straight through. The priest approached him slowly, wondering if Hawkeye could hear him over the sound of the rain. When he was two feet away, he finally spoke.

"Hawkeye?"

The doctor didn't answer, and Dago lowered himself to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with the other man, the slightest of touch between them. Though Hawkeye remained quiet, Dago could tell that he was crying, and so he simply sat there, offering solace by his mere presence.

"I failed him." Hawkeye finally said in broken voice.

"You didn't," Dago countered softly, but surely. "His injuries were too severe, Hawkeye…you know that."

"I told him I was going to fix him."

"You did the best you could, Hawkeye."

"My best wasn't good enough." Hawkeye snapped, his head coming up as he looked at the priest with utter self-loathing. Hawkeye had taken off his glasses and Dago could see the redness rimming his steel-blue eyes from the force of his tears. "What good am I as a doctor if I can't save the ones who matter?"

"The ones who matter?" Dago trailed off in disbelief at the statement. Anger surged through the mild-mannered priest and he looked at Hawkeye with indignation. "How dare you!"

"Excuse me?" Hawkeye narrowed his eyes.

"How dare you demean and devalue the lives of all the other men fighting this war. The men who have been irremediably wounded; other men who have died! We were all terribly fond of Ho-Jon, Hawkeye, and we're all devastated that he's gone, but who the hell are you to say which lives are the ones worth saving?"

"I'm the goddamn surgeon that was dragged into the goddamn war and forced to do the goddamn impossible! That's who I am! I'm the one who stands there day after day, night after night, sometimes 24 hours straight, covered head to toe in the blood of innocent boys, elbow-deep in their lower intestines, working my goddamn fingers to the goddamn bones trying to save their goddamn lives so the goddamn army can send them back to the goddamn front line again! Was Ho-Jon more important than those other kids on the table right now? You're goddamn right, he was! We fucking _knew_ him, Dago! He _lived_ here! He was one of us! He had a goddamn future!" Hawkeye's tirade broke at the end as he dissolved into another round of heart wrenching sobs.

The priest knew that Hawkeye's rant was emotionally charged, but he also didn't doubt that Hawkeye truly believed in what he was saying. That revelation made Dago feel very torn about the man next to him. He wanted to give Hawkeye comfort, say something that might change the way he felt and soothe the pain, but Hawkeye's claims angered him. He knew Pierce was young—barely even thirty—and impassioned by injustice but that was no excuse for his dismissal of others who had come before Ho-Jon and would continue to come now that he was gone.

"You are a phenomenal doctor, Hawkeye." Dago finally said, some of his own aggravation sullying his comforting tone. "I've seen you save lives that were nearly forfeit the moment they arrived in this camp. You are talented…but you're _not_ God. You don't get to say who lives and who dies. You don't get to assign a person's worth simply because you know them personally…and you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking so."

Hawkeye's tears had dried once again, but the bitter look of loathing remained on his face, indicating that he disagreed with the chaplain.

Dago shook his head sadly, water drops flicking off the ends of his wet mop of hair. "I'm so disappointed in you, Hawkeye."

Hawkeye looked at the priest and gave a harsh, humorless laugh. "The disappointment of a priest means very little to me, _Father._"

The derisive way in which Hawkeye spat out Dago's title made the chaplain bristle with outrage. He sat there for a long moment, dumbfounded by Hawkeye's cold detachment. There were a million things vying to be said on the tip of his tongue, but Dago managed to hold back his anger, swallowing the spiteful words before he finally managed to find a neutral tone. "It's obvious you need some time to grieve alone. If you'll excuse me, there are others—boys who _were_ saved—that probably have a greater need for comfort than you do, _my son_."

Dago hadn't intended to let his anger seep in through his words, but he couldn't help but feel slightly justified by the final remark as he climbed to his feet and headed back to camp, leaving the surgeon alone with his thoughts in the pouring rain. Dago trudged back through the mud to the OR, pulling a pair of dry scrubs off the shelf and changing into them. He grabbed a towel and briskly rubbed it over his hair to help it dry, then picked up a new face mask and went back into the OR. The numbers were dwindling quickly as they carefully hurried through the remaining surgeries. Henry looked up as Dago entered and did a double take at the priest's attire.

"How's Pierce?" He asked.

Dago saw Trapper turn slightly at the mention of Hawkeye, obviously eager for the report. _Nothing a night of boozing won't cure._ Was the first thought that popped in the priest's head. _Forgive me, Father… _Was the next. "I think, perhaps, that Hawkeye would respond better in the company of friends." Was what he said out loud.

"Don't worry, Dago," Duke Forrest said from the table next to Henry. "We'll take care of him."

"Yes…well…" Dago paused for a moment, trying to find the right words for the situation. "Good luck."

All eyes followed the chaplain as he crossed to the other side of the room and went through the doors to the post-op ward.

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

_Into the fray once more,_

_Into the last good fight I'll ever know._

_Live and die on this day._

_Live and die on this day..._

-From_ The Grey_ (2012)


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Live and Die on This Day

Characters: Father John "Dago Red" Mulcahy/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce

Rating: MA; Hurt/Comfort

Summary: When the camp loses one of their own, Father Mulcahy finds himself unable to console a grieving and angry Hawkeye Pierce through conventional methods, and must find another way to get through to the distressed doctor.

Author's Note: Based on the characters portrayed by Donald Sutherland and Rene Auberjonois from MASH (1970), the original film production. The title comes from the poem quoted by Liam Neeson in The Grey (2012). Great movie, by the way.

And, as always, please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them right away. Thanks for reading. -RW

* * *

><p>"You planning on sitting out here for the rest of the war?" Trapper asked as he trudged down to the river and stood next to Hawkeye, shielded from the rain by his slicker.<p>

Hawkeye tilted his head back, blinking up at Trapper but not answering.

"Thanks for leaving the rest of us to finish up, by the way. Only took us about 3 hours."

Hawkeye looked back at the river. "What do you want, Trapper?"

"An apology, for starters." When Hawkeye didn't say anything, Trapper rolled his eyes. "I don't know if you've noticed but it's raining. Come back to the Swamp, I have a feeling we could both use a drink."

Hawkeye didn't move for a long minute, but finally sighed in resignation and held his hand out for help up. Trapper grasped Hawkeye's hand and pulled him to his feet. Hawkeye looked down at his nearly transparent scrubs and peeled the shirt back from where it was stuck to his skin.

"Christ…" Trapper snorted. "You're crazy, you know that?"

Hawkeye didn't reply. Trapper looked at him for a long moment, not knowing what to say that might help ease Hawkeye's pain. He'd never been a man of many words, and Hawkeye had never really been the type that ever needed cheering up. He clapped Hawkeye on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go see about that drink and get out of the goddamn rain."

The two walked back to the tent they shared with Duke Forrest, and Hawkeye immediately started shedding his wet clothing once they'd crossed the threshold, wrapping himself in a bathrobe and shaking the excess water from his hair like a dog. He wiped off his glasses and stuck them on his nose, then sat wordlessly on his bunk. Duke, who had been making martinis while Trapper had gone off to fetch Hawkeye, watched the doctor out of the corner of his eye. He glanced at Trapper, hoping to find some indication on the other man's face that some sort of progress had been made, but Trapper shook his head with a shrug.

"Here ya are, man," Duke said as he poured a martini, plopped an olive in and passed it to Hawkeye.

Without even a nod of thanks, Hawkeye tipped the glass back, swallowing its contents in one gulp, and held it back out to Duke.

Again the two other men exchanged a worried glance as Duke refilled the glass again, then again, then again.

"Enough." Trapper said as Hawkeye held the glass out again. "Keep drinking like that and you'll either turn into a fish or a pickle."

"Listen man," Duke said gently. "If you want to talk about it—"

"I don't." Hawkeye said shortly. "I don't want to talk about it; I don't want to think about it… I killed that kid. Me. He died because I'm a lousy surgeon."

"Christ…" Trapper muttered sarcastically. "You're as bad as Frank Burns, you know that?"

Hawkeye glared at Trapper.

"Well, you are. He's so full of himself that when a patient dies he blames someone else. You're so full of yourself that if you can't save a kid you think you're a lousy surgeon."

"Shut up, Trapper." Hawkeye said in a tone of warning.

"Or what? Want to hit me? Go ahead! You just downed about a quart of gin, I think the odds are in my favor.

The sound of a jeep rumbling to life outside caught Hawkeye's attention and he could see through the raised flaps and mosquito netting a body wrapped in a sheet on a stretcher lying across the back rack of the jeep. Dago Red was standing next to the jeep, talking to Henry Blake. Hawkeye instinctively knew that the body was Ho-Jon. Stuffing his feet in his boots, Hawkeye stumbled to his feet and out the door, ignoring the protests of Trapper and Duke. He staggered drunkenly towards Dago and Henry, who both looked over at his approach in surprise.

"Pierce!" Henry exclaimed, obviously already annoyed by Hawkeye's drunken presence.

"Is that him?" Hawkeye asked, looking at the priest.

"Go back to the Swamp, Hawkeye. There's nothing more you can do for him." Dago said.

"Where are you taking him?" Hawkeye demanded.

"To one of the monasteries," Dago answered gently. "He was a Buddhist. He deserves a proper ceremony."

"I'm going with you."

"Absolutely not." Henry cut in.

"Henry…" Dago started to protest, but was cut off by Hawkeye who grabbed the front of Henry's slicker and pulled the man towards him.

"_Don't_ piss me off, Henry."

"Hawkeye!" Dago exclaimed, stepping forward to try and get between the two men.

"Get your hands off me, Pierce, before I court-martial your ass."

Though Hawkeye didn't immediately comply, he ultimately released Henry and took a step back, giving his C.O. a defiant look. "I'm. Going."

"Not dressed like that, you're not." It was Dago who protested now, and Hawkeye looked down at his robe, now just as wet as the scrubs he'd been wearing.

"Pierce, you're in no condition to—"

"Henry," Dago cut him off gently. "Ease up."

Blake sighed and looked between the chaplain and the surgeon. He thrust a finger in Hawkeye's face, "Don't think that you're going to get off lightly on this, Pierce. I know what Ho-Jon meant to you, but that's no excuse for your behavior."

"Does that mean I can go?"

Blake threw up his hands is exasperation, muttering as he turned on his heel and walked away.

Dago shook his head and quietly sighed. "Go change, Hawkeye. I'll wait for you."

Hawkeye turned and ran back to the Swamp, again shedding his wet clothing like a snake and pulling on a pair of olive drab pants, shirt, jacket, bucket hat, and his rain slicker. He laced up his boots and wordlessly slipped back out of the Swamp.

"Prick!" He heard Trapper call after him, but ignored it as he went back to where Dago was leaning against the jeep, waiting. The chaplain slipped into the driver's seat as Hawkeye climbed in next to him.

"It's getting dark," Dago said. "We'll have to hurry. Henry almost didn't give me permission to do this."

They drove out of camp, raindrops stinging their bare faces in the uncovered jeep. Hawkeye kept an eye on Ho-Jon to make sure that the stretcher didn't bounce off the back, but continued his silence for nearly 20 minutes, which the priest didn't interrupt. Hawkeye thought about the last time he'd seen Ho-Jon alive and well, and a lump of raw emotion formed in his throat.

It had been when Ho-Jon had gotten his draft notice and was told to report to Seoul for an evaluation to see if he was fit to serve. Hawkeye, Trapper and Duke had devised what they believed was a flawless plan to con the Korean army into thinking Ho-Jon wasn't fit for duty. They've given him a stimulant drug that had increased his heart rate and blood pressure to abnormal levels. They had underestimated the medical staff of the Korean army and when Hawkeye had taken him in for his physical, the doctor had called him out on it and Ho-Jon had been taken away.

Hawkeye had never stopped blaming himself and felt immensely guilty for the failure of the plan. He hadn't even been allowed a proper goodbye…and now Ho-Jon was dead. And it was still his fault. The tears started again and Hawkeye pulled off his glasses as he covered his face with his hands.

Dago looked over at Hawkeye, a pang of empathy pulling at his heart. He still felt disappointed in Hawkeye for believing that Ho-Jon was more important that the other soldiers that had been wounded or died, but he mostly felt sorry for the other man. He'd seen Hawkeye lose patients before and knew that he took them all very hard, but this one was personal.

"It wasn't your fault," Dago said gently, trying again to offer some amount of comfort to the doctor.

"Dago, please just leave me alone." Hawkeye replied tightly, sniffling his runny nose.

"You don't have to shut everyone out," the chaplain continued to press. "You don't have to experience your sadness alone."

Hawkeye said nothing and turned his face away from the chaplain, a physical gesture to show that he just wanted to be left alone.

Dago sighed loudly in the driver's seat, likening Hawkeye to a stubborn, hotheaded child. He knew that once this passed, Hawkeye would really be in a world of trouble with Henry for walking out of the OR, for the minor assault, and probably for just being a horse's ass in general. He knew the colonel's threat to court-martial Pierce was empty, but if Henry was mad enough, he could find other ways to punish the doctor. He decided to let Hawkeye have his way for now, simply intent on getting Ho-Jon's body where it needed to go…then he'd try again.

One of the monks at the monastery met the jeep as it pulled up and Hawkeye watched as Dago placed his palms together in front of him and gave a bow, which the monk repeated back at Dago, then again at the doctor. Hawkeye simply nodded in return. Two other young monks hurried out in the rain and grabbed either end of the stretcher, lifting it carefully off the rack on the jeep before they started back towards the portcullis-like entry of the temple.

Hawkeye started to follow them, but Dago threw out his arm and stopped him. "We can't go in, Hawkeye."

"What?" Hawkeye asked in disbelief. "Come on, Dago…let me by."

"This is as far as we can go."

"But—"

"Hawkeye…" Dago said gently, turning to look at the other man. "They'll take care of him. Ho-Jon would be thankful you saw him this far, but we _can't_ go into the monastery."

Hawkeye watched the last glimpse of the stretcher disappear before he swung away from the priest as the tears started to fall again. He gripped the side of the jeep and kicked the tire. Dago winced, a phantom empathy pain in his toe, then turned back to the monk still standing there waiting.

"Thank you." Dago told him, offering another respectful bow. The monk bowed in return, then stepped around Dago and walked to Hawkeye, removing a bracelet from around his wrist. He picked up Hawkeye's hand, turned it over and placed the wooden beads in the doctor's hand before bowing and walking away again. Hawkeye looked at the beads curiously, then up at Dago.

"What the hell is this?"

Dago resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Hawkeye's temperamental tone as he headed back to the jeep and climbed in. "A gift. Buddhist prayer beads. He obviously thought they might bring you some peace and comfort."

"A lousy bracelet? That's his answer? What a joke."

"Alright, that's it!" Dago exclaimed, slamming his hands against the steering wheel and jumping out of the jeep again. He grabbed Hawkeye's arm as the doctor started to round the jeep to get in, and pulled him back, standing toe-to-toe with the other man. "This has _got_ to stop, Hawkeye! You're allowed to be upset, you're allowed to grieve, but you're _not_ allowed to be a complete ass to me, to Henry, to a monk who is simply trying to offer a simple, kind gesture… I know you think Ho-Jon's death was your fault, but it _wasn't_. So why don't you yell and scream and throw your little tantrum and get it all out here because I'm tired of you acting like a spoiled child!"

Under other circumstances, Hawkeye might have been surprised and amused by the priest yelling at him, but right now he just felt angry. He was sick of people telling him it wasn't his fault when he knew damn well it was. He was sick of people pushing him to talk about it and deal with it when he didn't want to. Hawkeye pushed the priest back with a meaningful shove against his chest.

"What part of _leave me the_ _fuck_ _alone_ do you people _not_ understand?" Hawkeye shouted. He advanced on the priest and shoved him back another step. "I _don't _want to talk about it! I _don't _give a _fuck_ what you think I'm 'allowed' to feel. That kid was drafted because of _me_! He died because of _me_! Don't you fucking pretend to know what I feel right now."

By the time Hawkeye had stopped screaming at Dago, he had backed the priest against the high wall that surrounded the monastery and was pinning him there by his shoulders. The priest had a hard, angry look in his eyes, but didn't interrupt the doctor. Hawkeye knew Dago was trying to provoke him, trying to get him to break down completely, but—again—it only angered him. He grabbed Dago by the front of his slicker and shoved the priest away from him with such force, that Dago's feet came out from under him and he fell hard into the wet, muddy earth.

Dago groaned slightly in pain, his ribs aching from where they'd make contact with the ground. His chest burning as the air was momentarily forced from his lungs. He managed to get to his hands and knees, but knew it was going to take him a minute to get back to his feet. He'd expected Hawkeye to hit inanimate objects, like the jeep, or maybe even the stone wall, but he hadn't anticipated pushing him to the point of being violent with another human being.

Seeing Dago on the ground, struggling to get back to his feet shook Hawkeye from his rage and he cursed under his breath before going over and offering the chaplain his hand. Dago looked up at him warily, raindrops falling into his face.

"I'm sorry." Hawkeye apologized, though gruffly.

Dago reached up and grasped Hawkeye's hand, letting the other man help him to his feet.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." Dago said tightly.

"Let me see your side," Hawkeye offered, trying to pry Dago's arm away from where it protected his sore ribs.

"Just get in the damn jeep, Hawkeye. I'm tired, I'm wet, and I just want to go back to my tent and go to bed." Dago brushed past Hawkeye, limping slightly back to the jeep. Hawkeye followed him silently, slipping back into the passenger seat. He hadn't meant to hurt the chaplain, but he had warned the other man to leave him alone. He heard the priest take a slow, deep breath before he blew it back out then tried to start the jeep. The engine cranked for several moments, but didn't turn over. Mulcahy tried several more times to start it.

"Wonderful…" Dago said, dropping his head down against the steering wheel.

"Should I go knock on the door and ask to borrow their phone?" Hawkeye asked, somewhat sarcastically.

Dago looked over at the heavy wooden doors, now closing them outside the monastery walls. "No…they're not going to hear us knocking in this rain."

"Then what are we going to do? The camp is at least 30 miles away."

"Unless you want to spend the night out here, I suggest we start walking."

"Are you crazy?" Hawkeye sputtered. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"I'm _really_ not in the mood to argue with you, Hawkeye. Stay here if you'd like, but the jeep is dead and unless you've got some mechanic skills you haven't told me about, I'd say we're up the creek without a paddle."

Hawkeye watched Dago get back out of the jeep and amble down the muddy road in the direction they had come from. He was still holding his side and moving a little stiffly, but he was obviously determined to walk the entire way back to camp with or without Hawkeye. The doctor looked up at the darkening sky, sending up angry thoughts to whatever God was up there laughing at him that day.

"Dago…wait up." He called as he got out of the jeep and jogged to catch up with the priest. "Do you even know how to get back? It's about to be pitch black out here and it's raining."

"We just have to follow the road as best we can."

"This is going to be a long night." Hawkeye muttered.

Dago stopped dead in his tracks. "Look, Hawkeye, if you're coming with me, that's fine, but I'm not going to listen to you deride everything like you've been doing, so either stop being snide or keep your mouth shut."

When the doctor didn't say anything in response, Dago resumed walking. Hawkeye fell into step beside him, but didn't say anything. An hour passed in silence before Hawkeye finally started speaking.

"It _was_ my fault," he said softly. "Trap, Duke and I…when Ho-Jon got his draft notice and was told to report to the facility for his physical...we gave him something so that the doctors might think he wasn't fit for duty."

The priest was appalled by that confession, but he said nothing, knowing that if he berated Hawkeye for his irresponsibility then the Doctor would shut down again.

"I guess I thought that the doctors over here would be as backwards as the rest of this whole damn country and wouldn't be smart enough to realize what we'd given him." Hawkeye gave a sad little laugh. "I didn't even say goodbye to him. When they were taking him away, all I could say was 'Hey, Ho-Jon, don't get wounded. I don't want to see you end up on my table.' What a stupid thing to say…I was trying to be clever, you know. Try and be funny about it to hide the fact that I was scared to death for him. I think…I dunno…I think I knew he wasn't going to make it. He was so damn young. If only I'd come up with the rest of the money to send him stateside sooner."

The doctor fell into a moody silence and the priest glanced over at him as they continued to walk. "It wasn't your fault that he was drafted, Hawkeye. Blaming yourself is like saying that you're the cause of this whole war. He was drafted just like you, Trapper and Duke. None of you asked to be involved in this conflict, yet here you are. Ho-Jon was no different. I'm sure that he was glad you tried to keep him safe. Ho-Jon adored the three of you."

"Maybe it wasn't my fault he was drafted," Hawkeye conceded. "But he still died on my table."

"Yes, he did," Dago said matter-of-factly, making the doctor stop and gawk at him with a mixture of disbelieving indignation and overwhelming sadness. The priest stopped as well, giving Hawkeye a hard look. "He died on your table while you were trying to save him from the grievous wounds he received in battle. He died knowing he was under the care of the best doctor in Korea."

"Don't…" Hawkeye said in a chocked voice. "Don't call me that. If I was the best doctor, I would have saved him."

"Did you do everything humanly possible to save him?" Dago asked.

"What kind of stupid question is that?" Hawkeye spat, angry tears splashing down his face. "Of course I did."

"If it had been another boy, would you still be blaming yourself like you are right now?"

Hawkeye's brows drew together angrily but he didn't say another word.

"You did the best you could, Hawkeye." Dago said, taking a step closer to the doctor and placing his hand on his shoulder. "He didn't die because you're not a good doctor. He died because he was seriously wounded."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Hawkeye said tightly, roughly turning from Dago to walk away.

Dago shook his head, wishing he could shake the doctor instead, but knew he couldn't push Hawkeye. He had to let the man grieve at his own speed. All he could do was be ready when Hawkeye started talking again.

"This _is_ going to be a long night." Dago muttered before falling back in step beside Hawkeye.

* * *

><p>TBC<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Live and Die on This Day

Characters: Father John "Dago Red" Mulcahy/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce

Rating: MA; Hurt/Comfort

Summary: When the camp loses one of their own, Father Mulcahy finds himself unable to console a grieving and angry Hawkeye Pierce through conventional methods, and must find another way to get through to the distressed doctor.

Author's Note: Based on the characters portrayed by Donald Sutherland and Rene Auberjonois from MASH (1970), the original film production. The title comes from the poem quoted by Liam Neeson in The Grey (2012). Great movie, by the way.

And, as always, please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them right away. Thanks for reading. -RW

* * *

><p>Two more hours passed as the doctor and priest continued making their way along the darkened dirt road. Dago's side was still aching and he'd tried slowing his pace a little to ease the pain, but it didn't seem to be much help.<p>

"I need to rest for a minute," he finally called out to Hawkeye, who was several steps ahead of him. The doctor turned to look at him, his inner war still raging within him, if the look on his face was any indication. Dago carefully moved off the road and wandered towards a squat looking tree a few yards away. He eased himself onto the ground, holding his side, and leaned back against the trunk. The canopy of leaves over his head wasn't full, but it kept the rain off of him for the most part.

Hawkeye joined him a minute later, kneeling in front of Dago. "You going to let me see those ribs now?"

The chaplain didn't resist this time and lifted his arm out of the way as the doctor wove his hand up under Dago's slicker and inside his G.I. jacket, feeling of his ribs through the priest's shirt. Dago groaned slightly against the touch, closing his eyes and holding his breath as the doctor assessed him.

"I don't think anything's broken," Hawkeye murmured thoughtfully. "Probably just bruised."

Dago released his breath as Hawkeye gently retrieved his hand and settled next to the priest, leaning back against the trunk and wiping some of the water off of his face before he reached into his jacket and found his glasses.

"How far do you think we've walked?" Dago asked, hoping that a safe topic would get the moody doctor talking after such a long stint of silence.

"I don't know," Hawkeye answered, considering the question for a minute. "Ten miles maybe? I know in high school I could run a mile in about 9 minutes, but we've been moving pretty slow."

Dago sighed wearily knowing that he wouldn't be seeing his bunk anytime soon. He wondered if they should have stayed with the jeep until morning, or if they should have stayed outside the monastery shouting until someone finally let them in. Either way, they'd be no closer to getting back to camp than they were now.

Hawkeye shifted slightly beside him. "I'm sorry I pushed you down."

"It's alright. I told you to be angry…and you listened." Another moment of silence lapsed between the two men and Dago looked over at Hawkeye. "I want to help you, Hawkeye. I want to give you some comfort, but…I don't know how. I don't know what it is you need."

"I need to not talk about it," Hawkeye told him. "Everyone wants me to talk about it, but I _don't_ want to. It just…hurts too much."

Dago considered this for several seconds, then tried another tactic. He scooted closer to the doctor and carefully placed his arm around Hawkeye's shoulders. Hawkeye looked at Dago strangely. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you comfort. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I'm here for you, Hawkeye. You don't have to grieve alone."

He felt the doctor tense slightly and fully expected to be pushed away again, but Hawkeye turned his head away from the priest instead. Dago could feel the quiet sobs shaking Hawkeye's body and he tightened his fingers around Hawkeye's shoulder, drawing him closer wordlessly. Hawkeye leaned heavily against the chaplain, once again removing his glasses as he turned his face in against Dago's shoulder.

Dago rested his head against the top of Hawkeye's wet bucket hat and brought his other arm around to hug Hawkeye against him as the man wept. Though Hawkeye had spent the better part of the day dissolving into tears, Dago had only ever seen him cry once before—the day Hawkeye lost his very first patient.

"He was like a son to me," Hawkeye's broken voice said suddenly. "I have two boys at home, you know. They're both too young to understand why Daddy's not there, but Ho-Jon…I loved him like he was mine."

Dago listened without remark, giving Hawkeye an encouraging squeeze instead.

"I always gave him a little more money whenever he did things for us. The wages the army paid him to do the cleaning weren't ever going to be enough for him to get anywhere. He was such a good kid, Dago…why did it have to be him?"

Dago waited for Hawkeye's sobs to subside before he tried to offer the best answer he had. "I don't know, Hawkeye. God has always done things that I don't understand, but it's not my place to question His will."

"It should have been someone else." Hawkeye said through gritted teeth.

Dago felt that same wave of anger swell through him at Hawkeye's declaration that Ho-Jon's worth was above others, but he again tried to bite back his angry retort. "It shouldn't have been _anyone_. All life is sacred, Hawkeye. Not just Ho-Jon's. This war has claimed too many innocent lives…it's wrong to wish death on anyone else. I think Ho-Jon would agree with me on that."

The words were the wrong thing to say and Hawkeye pushed off of Dago angrily, climbing to his feet. "Let's go."

Dago watched the doctor storm back towards the road that would lead them to the camp and sighed at the other man's volatility. He'd never expected Hawkeye to be such a hot-head when it came to experiencing grief, but knew that all people handled the death of loved ones differently. Depression and sadness were the most common stages of grief that he experienced when consoling others, but resentment and aggression were a little rarer and out of his realm. He'd tried getting Hawkeye to talk, he'd tried making Hawkeye get his aggression out, he'd tried the simple act of physical contact, but they had all landed him back in the same spot. Hawkeye would start to open up, and then shut down just as quickly. He knew the pain Hawkeye was feeling was real, but nothing seemed to be helping it to heal.

Getting back on his feet and hurrying after Hawkeye, Dago knew he had to figure out a way to help the doctor process the loss of their friend before it affected the man more seriously than it already was. He purposefully walked several paces behind Hawkeye so that he could contemplate his next approach without drawing the ire of the other man.

He was so lost in his thought that he didn't realize Hawkeye had stopped until he nearly ran into him. Dago looked up at Hawkeye curiously, and saw the irritated look on his face.

"This day just keeps getting better and better." Hawkeye said, looking ahead.

Dago stepped beside Hawkeye and saw that one of the old wooden bridges on the roadway had been washed out by the rain. The drop down into the river was only a few feet, but the water was high and flowing fast. It was a good eight foot jump to the other side of the bank.

"We could try and find a better place to cross." Dago offered.

Hawkeye shook his head, "If we leave the road we'll get lost. I don't know about you, but I left my road map in my other jacket."

"What do you suggest then?"

"Me?" Hawkeye gave a short, tired laugh. "I don't know about you, Dago, but I've pretty much had all I can take today. I'm ready to give up."

"And do what exactly? Sit here all night in the rain and wait for a rescue? Wait to come across enemy soldiers?" Dago's patience with Hawkeye had worn thin and, though he hadn't intended to, he was snapping angrily at the other man.

"If it wasn't for me, you'd be out here alone." Hawkeye retorted.

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be out here at all!" Dago snapped back before he realized what he'd even said. He looked at Hawkeye with wide, apologetic eyes. "I didn't mean that, Hawkeye; I'm sorry."

"Fuck you, Dago." Hawkeye said tightly, turning away from the priest.

"Hawkeye…please…I'm sorry."

"You're a real piece of work, you know that." Pierce said as he swung back towards Dago. "You spend all this time trying to convince me that I didn't kill Ho-Jon, that I'm not a lousy surgeon, when really you _do_ think I was responsible."

"I don't, Hawkeye." Dago said adamantly. "I don't. I swear. Please, you must believe me."

"Why would I believe _anything_ you say? You're so naïve that you don't just _believe_ there's a God, you _work_ for the son of a bitch. Funny that you would have faith in something that doesn't exist, but you didn't have faith in me. That's why you asked me if Ho-Jon would make it. You knew I wasn't good enough to pull him through."

"That's not true!" Dago shouted. He took the insults related to his faith in God, but argued the point about his faith in Hawkeye. "I have _every_ faith in you, Hawkeye. I have never lied to you, never misled you. What I said now was in anger, and I deeply regret it."

"Oh, spare me," Hawkeye scoffed, taking his hat off and hurling it across the river like a Frisbee. Dago watched the hat plop on the far bank, then watched Hawkeye turning off and walking along the edge of the river.

"Where are you going?" Dago asked, following him carefully.

"To find a fucking way across. The sooner I can get away from you, the better."

The priest felt the venom in the words, and flinched as if he'd been physically struck. He knew at this point that he should simply keep his mouth shut, and so he trailed along behind Hawkeye until they found a narrow-enough crossing to jump across. Hawkeye bounded to the other side of the river nearly effortlessly, but Dago's bruised ribs prevented him from exerting the same amount of effort and he landed precariously on the edge of the bank, nearly slipping down into the water. A hand fisted around the front of his slicker and yanked him away from the water's edge. Dago looked at Hawkeye, but found only quiet rage staring back at him.

He swallowed hard against his own remorse. "Thanks."

Hawkeye turned and started walking back in the direction that would take them to the road without saying anything.

Once they made it back to the road, Hawkeye picked up his hat, wrung out the water and mud, and crammed it into his back pocket. They continued on in silence once again, walking ceaselessly until Dago felt like he was going to collapse. Just as he was about to beg Hawkeye for another rest, the doctor stopped and pointed to something up ahead.

"Isn't that the ridge-line with the caves we had to bug out to earlier this year?"

Dago squinted through the rain. "I have no idea. It could be, but there's a lot of hills in this part of Korea."

"I don't know how much further it is to the camp, but I'm tired of walking. Let's take our chances and find some shelter for the rest of the night."

"I thought you were claustrophobic?"

Hawkeye said nothing as he headed towards the hills and Dago sighed, knowing that the doctor had said all he was going to for now.

By the time he reached the bottom of the hill, Dago wasn't sure he had the energy or strength to climb up the steep slope of rock that lead to the caves, but Hawkeye was already halfway up the hill. Mustering up as much energy as possible, Dago slowly managed to pull himself up the slippery slope and found Hawkeye standing in front of a familiar looking cave with a grim look on his face.

_The claustrophobia_. Dago thought. He carefully stepped up beside Hawkeye, walking on eggshells now that he had unintentionally betrayed Hawkeye's trust. "We can just stay at the opening here; we don't have to go all the way in."

Hawkeye nodded, and Dago preceded him in, going back just far enough to escape the rain. He sighed tiredly and pulled his rain slicker off over his head, then slipped off his jacket which was wet around the edges that hadn't been protected by the slicker. His shirt was still mostly dry, but his pants, boots, socks and boxers were all soaking wet. He knew he'd just have to deal with that until they made it back to camp. Dago slid down against the cave wall, balling up his jacket behind him for some padding, and looked at Hawkeye still standing at the edge of the cave.

Dago remembered when they had bugged out earlier that year due to shelling in the area. The caves had been their best refuge, but Hawkeye hadn't been able to take more than 3 steps inside before he started to panic and had to run back out.

"It's alright, Hawkeye." Dago said gently, hoping to help ease the man's turmoil.

"Don't talk to me, Dago." Hawkeye said shortly before taking several deep breaths and inching his way into the cave. He stood stock still for several moments, waiting for the rock to crumble down on top of them, and only relaxing marginally when they didn't. He pulled off his own rain slicker and threw it down into the dirt before sitting down on the opposite wall from the priest and purposefully avoided looking at the other man.

Dago felt another pang of guilt, but chose to honor Hawkeye's request and stayed silent as he unlaced his boots and pulled them off, pouring out the water that had collected inside and setting them aside. He peeled off his socks next and laid them over the tops of his boots.

Hawkeye was watching him with barely concealed contempt, but mirrored Dago's actions and took off his own boots and socks. Dago didn't know how to fix the rift he'd caused with the surgeon, but hoped he hadn't completely alienated the man with his thoughtless comment. For now, he felt too tired to try and think of a solution. He grabbed his balled up jacket and laid it on the dry ground, laying on his uninjured side as he rested his head on the make-shift pillow.

"Get some sleep, Hawkeye." He said gently. A derisive snort was the only reply, but Dago let it go and laid there with his eyes open, listening to the sound of the rain outside of the cave and trying to ignore the cold that pervaded his body now that he was out of the downpour.

His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness of the cave and he could see Hawkeye more clearly now as the other man sat less than five feet away. His knees were drawn up, arms crossed over the tops, and his cheek was resting on his arms as he looked out the cave opening. Every so often Hawkeye would sniff softly and wipe his nose against his sleeve.

Dago felt useless, laying there while the other man suffered, but he knew that Hawkeye wouldn't accept any comfort the priest offered at this point. He quiet prayed for God to give Hawkeye peace. Dago had known since Hawkeye's arrival in camp that the man rejected all things religious, and had no belief in God whatsoever, but that hadn't stopped the chaplain from being there when Hawkeye needed solace. There had only been a few times that Dago had lent his ear to the doctor, or simply offered him a good stiff drink and a place to rant about how much he hated being in Korea, but it was those times that Dago felt truly needed by everyone. It wasn't just the Catholics who sought him out for consolation or confession, but the nonbelievers as well.

Now he knew he'd be lucky if Hawkeye ever came to him for anything again. He licked his lips and spoke softly, hoping that Hawkeye would listen.

"I don't think you're responsible for Ho-Jon's death." Dago paused, waiting for Hawkeye to tell him to shut up again. He could see the man tense up, but Hawkeye didn't speak. "I was angry and tired when I said that; I wasn't thinking, and I'm very sorry, Hawkeye."

"Why would you say it if you didn't believe it?" Hawkeye asked tightly.

Dago sat up and leaned against the wall. "My patience had run out at that point. I've never seen you in quite a state like you're in now. I've tried to do everything I can to be here for you and help you, but I've been met with anger and sarcasm at every turn. I was…exasperated. I may be a priest and may try to think before I speak, but I'm also Irish and I have the temper to match when I reach the end of my rope. It was wrong of me to say that; it was cruel and hurtful and…I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing." Hawkeye said softly, then fell into a quiet lull for a long moment. "I just keep going over and over the procedure in my head, trying to figure out when everything went to shit, you know? It was going fine at first, but…I don't know. I guess a piece of shrapnel just ricocheted around in his gut or something because it was a mess. I couldn't get the bleeding under control. Every time I tied off one bleeder, blood would start coming from somewhere else. I think I kind of panicked at that point. And then Ugly kept telling me to hurry up…"

Dago could tell Hawkeye was on the brink of tears again so he got on his hands and knees and slowly crawled over to where Hawkeye was sitting, settling himself beside the other man, their shoulders barely touching. "What could you have done differently?"

"I don't know." Hawkeye answered miserably. "I just needed a few more minutes. Just five minutes."

Hawkeye's voice began to break and Dago reached over, grasping of one of the doctor's hands and holding it tightly. "You could spend the rest of your life wishing for those five minutes, but it's not going to change anything, Hawkeye. He's gone and there's nothing anyone can do to bring him back. As much as it saddens all of us to lose someone so special, we mustn't let our grief consume us. Ho-Jon wouldn't want that of anyone, especially you."

Hawkeye sniffed and wiped tears from his eyes as he thought about what Dago had said. He still couldn't help feeling somehow responsible for Ho-Jon; couldn't stop feeling like he'd failed the boy. "It hurts, Dago." He said breathlessly.

The priest felt a pang of empathy for the broken man next to him and carefully wrapped his arm around Hawkeye's shoulder again, drawing him in against him. "I know, Hawkeye. I know."

Hawkeye pressed his face against Dago's chest as he took several calming breaths to try and stay his tears. Dago's hand was rubbing his arm soothingly, and Hawkeye had to admit that it was having the desired effect. Though he still felt miserable, he felt tired and just wanted to sleep off all the thoughts in his head.

"Will you sleep next to me, Dago? If Ho-Jon isn't enough to give me nightmares, being in this goddamn cave certainly is."

"Sure." The chaplain said gently. Hawkeye extracted himself from the priest's embrace and watched Dago reach across the cave for his wadded up jacket. The two men laid down facing each other, only a foot of space between them and looked at each other in the darkness.

"Hawkeye…?" Dago ventured carefully. "Do you really believe what you said earlier?"

"What's that?" Hawkeye asked tiredly.

"That the other boys' lives don't matter."

"No," Hawkeye answered quietly after a minute. "That was just me feeling angry and bitter."

Dago felt quietly relieved and smiled softly, reaching across to gently grasp Hawkeye's arm. The doctor looked at him for a long moment, then balled his hand around the front of Dago's shirt and pulled the other man closer to him, burying his face in against Dago's neck like a small child. Though somewhat uncomfortable in the close proximity to the doctor, the chaplain knew that he was being used like a human security blanket and allowed the closeness. He wrapped his arm tightly around Hawkeye and closed his eyes, letting the sound of the rain and the doctor's steady breathing lull him to sleep.

* * *

><p>TBC<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Live and Die on This Day

Characters: Father John "Dago Red" Mulcahy/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce

Rating: MA; Hurt/Comfort

Summary: When the camp loses one of their own, Father Mulcahy finds himself unable to console a grieving and angry Hawkeye Pierce through conventional methods, and must find another way to get through to the distressed doctor.

Author's Note: Based on the characters portrayed by Donald Sutherland and Rene Auberjonois from MASH (1970), the original film production. The title comes from the poem quoted by Liam Neeson in The Grey (2012). Great movie, by the way.

And, as always, please ignore any typos. I don't always catch them right away. Thanks for reading. -RW

* * *

><p>As day dawned over Korea, the priest was slowly pulled out of a heavy sleep by sunlight streaming into the cave opening. He blinked open his eyes to find a mess of dirty blonde hair just under his nose and a pair of strong arms cinching him around the middle. He lifted his head and groaned quietly as his stiff neck protested the movement. He was getting too old to sleep on the hard ground.<p>

"Hawkeye…" he said gently, tapping the other man's arm to get him to relinquish his hold. "Hawkeye, wake up."

Hawkeye harrumphed in reply, nuzzling closer into the priest.

Dago sighed, half in resignation, half in irritation, and gently pried Hawkeye's hands from around his waist until he could slip out of the embrace. He sat up, trying to roll the crick out of his neck as he yawned. As he got to his feet and made his way towards the opening, he realized that the rain had finally stopped.

"What time is it?" Hawkeye mumbled sleepily behind him.

Dago turned to see Hawkeye sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. The priest checked his wristwatch. "Just after 0700. If we get a move on now, we might be able to make it back to camp by lunch time."

Hawkeye nodded and stretched as the priest sat back down to put on his socks and shoes, still damp from the previous night. "How do you feel this morning?" Dago ventured carefully.

"I dunno…" Hawkeye muttered softly. "I'm not over it…but I dunno. I'm okay, I guess."

"Okay is good." Dago said encouragingly.

Hawkeye crammed his feet into his own boots, leaving his socks off. "Thanks for, you know…being there. I'm sorry I was such an asshole to you and everyone else."

"It's alright," Dago started to say. "Though I think Henry may have a thing or two to say about it."

"Yeah, Trapper and Duke too… but you're the one that matters. You're the one I hurt."

"I'm fine, Hawkeye, really. It hardly even hurts this morning."

"Still...I'm sorry, Dago."

"So am I…for the things I said to you yesterday."

The two men looked at each other for a long moment, then Hawkeye's face cracked into a gentle smile for the first time since before Ho-Jon had come in wounded. Dago felt a sudden sense of relief wash over him at that small gesture and found himself grinning back at the other man.

"Come on, let's get back to camp." Hawkeye said, getting to his feet and offering his hand to the chaplain.

They gathered their belongings, then slowly made their way down from the cave, walking side-by-side back to the road that would lead them home.

"You…uh…won't tell anyone about last night, will you?" Hawkeye asked, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"What? That you used me as a human teddy bear?"

"Yeah," Hawkeye laughed softly.

"Your secret is safe with me." Dago chuckled.

A few moments of companionable silence passed between the two men before Hawkeye crammed his hands in his pockets uncomfortably. "How much do you know about Buddhist traditions, Dago?"

"Quite a bit. Why?"

"What will they do with Ho-Jon's body?"

"Most likely he will be cremated." Dago answered gently. "They believe it is the most hygienic way to dispose of the body when a person passes on. The Buddhists believe in rebirth—reincarnation. A person who has lived a good life will be reborn into a higher position in life. I have no doubt that Ho-Jon lived a good life and will be rewarded in the afterlife."

"Yeah…I hope you're right."

As silence lapsed over them again, a jeep engine could be heard in the distance and both men stopped, trying to figure out which way the jeep was coming from. Dago looked at Hawkeye warily. "You don't think it's enemy soldiers do you?"

"I don't think so…" Hawkeye said in consideration. "I doubt they'd be taking a joyride through South Korea."

"Think it could be someone from camp?"

"Let's hope so. I really wasn't looking forward to walking the rest of the way back." Hawkeye jested.

The two men waited with bated breath, watching the horizon for any sign of the jeep. When it finally crested a small hill, Dago smiled, recognizing the large red cross painted across the jeep that signified it was from a MASH unit. Hawkeye stood in the middle of the road, waving his arms above his head as he whooped and hollered at the jeep.

"Told you we could have stayed back at the monastery." Hawkeye said to the chaplain as the jeep honked to acknowledge that the men had been seen.

"The bridge is washed out; remember? They wouldn't have been able to get to us any time soon."

"Ah…" Hawkeye waved off Dago's comment. "Details."

The chaplain chuckled and stepped aside as the jeep, containing one Trapper John McIntyre and one Walt "The Painless Pole" Waldowski, skittered to a halt on the muddy road.

"Hiya honey." Trapper said as he smacked a piece of bubblegum and eyed Hawkeye. "Where ya headed?"

"Where ya going?" Hawkeye asked, playing along and leaning against the windshield next to Trapper.

"Hop in and I'll show you."

"Mind if we bring my friend?" Hawkeye tossed his head towards Dago.

"He's not a squealer is he?"

"You're not a squealer, are you, Dago?"

The chaplain rolled his eyes. "Just get in the jeep, Hawkeye."

Hawkeye laughed slightly, but obeyed the priest and hopped in the backseat. Once the two men were settled into the back, Painless turned the jeep around and headed for home. Trapper turned in his seat to look at Hawkeye and Dago.

"What happened to you guys anyways?"

"The jeep broke down outside the monastery," Hawkeye told him. "We hoofed it all the way back here."

"Jesus fucking Christ…" Trapper said, then belated added, "Sorry Red."

The priest waved him off, then tuned out the conversation between the doctors as the jeep rumbled along back to the Double Natural. There was a mild fanfare as they pulled into the camp, and some of the personnel ran out of the mess tent cheering for their safe return. Hawkeye waved to them as if he were royalty, but Dago merely nodded and climbed out of the jeep behind Painless.

"Glad you guys made it back in one piece," Painless told him, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Thanks for coming after us, Walt."

"Sure thing. We would have come sooner, but the rain…"

"I know. It washed out a bridge several miles up the road, so you couldn't have gotten very far anyways."

Dago turned, eager to get to his tent and collect his shower things, but Henry's voice put a halt to those aspirations. "Hold on a sec, Padre. Pierce…I want to see you in my office."

"Go easy on him, Henry…it's been a rough night."

"Not as rough as it's going to be," Henry groused. Dago sighed, but followed Hawkeye and Henry to the colonel's office. The two men stood shoulder to shoulder as Henry paced behind his desk in obvious agitation.

"I get that things don't always go the way you want, Pierce, but you've got a job to do here and I need to know that you're going to do it the best you can. I need to know that I can count on all my men to give me their 110% in the OR, even if they don't feel like it. I know what Ho-Jon meant to you, but the price of war is that good men die. I can't have you fall to pieces and abandon your post when we're up to our asses in wounded."

"Henry—" Dago started gently.

"I'm not finished yet." The colonel bit back, making Dago jump slightly. "I've looked the other way on a lot of things, Pierce, but your behavior yesterday was inexcusable. You went A-W-O-L while on duty, you assaulted a superior officer, and you upset several members of this unit. That won't be tolerated in the future. I know you think you can walk all over me, Pierce, but make no mistake…this is _my_ outfit and I don't care if you are the best damn cutter I've got, I _will_ court-martial your ass if you ever do this shit again. Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Colonel, sir." Hawkeye answered, half mockingly.

"Padre, you've had to deal with him the most over the last 24 hours, what would you recommend for punishment?"

Hawkeye swiveled his head to look at the chaplain, who was considering Henry's question very seriously.

"Three days R&R." Dago finally suggested.

Henry's face turned purple as he sputtered. "T-Three days R&R! Are you nuts? After everything he's—"

"You asked for my recommendation, Henry." Dago interrupted gently. "As you said, I've spent the most time with him since Ho-Jon's death…he has suffered enough. To punish him for grieving the death of a loved one would be cruel, even if he did break protocol."

Henry was staring at the chaplain as if he didn't quite know what to make of the man and shook his head. "Unbelievable…absolutely unbeliev—get out of here already before I change my mind and court-martial you both for insubordination."

Dago looked to Hawkeye, who had a mischievous look on his face. "So is that a 'no' on the pass then?"

"OUT!" Henry bellowed, thrusting his finger towards the door.

Dago grabbed Hawkeye's arm and pulled him out of the office. "You really like to push his buttons, don't you?"

"He makes it too easy." Hawkeye shrugged. "Besides, Henry may be regular army, but he's too soft to actually follow through on his threats."

"Don't test him, Hawkeye. We're lucky he _is_ soft, otherwise this place would be even more of a nightmare than it already is."

"Yeah…maybe." Hawkeye shrugged. "Where are you off to now?"

"Shower." Dago replied. "Then maybe something to eat, then a nap if we don't get more wounded in. I'm exhausted."

Hawkeye nodded. "Me too. My bunions will be blaming you for a week."

Dago laughed. "Just remember who got us back here."

"Yeah…me." Hawkeye grinned. The chaplain's jaw dropped in indignation and the doctor laughed heartily, clapping the priest on the shoulder. "I'll see you around, Dago Red."

Dago nodded and turned towards his tent to collect his shower things, reflecting on the complete 180 of Hawkeye's mood since the previous day. Gone were the bitterness and anger; gone were the snide remarks and violent outburst… Hawkeye was back to his usual self today, and it left the priest's head spinning in wonder of what could have changed so dramatically over night.

If there was one thing Dago had learned in all his time as a Catholic priest, it was to never question blessings and miracles, but to simply be thankful for them. The two of them had had one hell of a night, but—if anything—it had brought the two men closer than they had been before. Perhaps they were still not friends, such in the way that Trapper and Duke were with Hawkeye, but there was an understanding there that hadn't existed before.

Dago smiled to himself as he glanced up towards the cloudless sky. Though the rainy season was far from over, he was thankful for the break in the clouds. He felt it was a perfect metaphor for Hawkeye's grief as well, and hoped that he had provided the man some small amount of comfort in his time of need.

* * *

><p>FIN<p> 


End file.
